


Blue & Burnt Sand

by exceptcas



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exceptcas/pseuds/exceptcas
Summary: Dean and the first nights after the events of 12x23.





	Blue & Burnt Sand

The clock says two a.m. For the past five nights, the clock has said two a.m. For the past five nights, Dean has been awake to see it. The numbers mock him in the dark. Blue and flashing. The first night, he just watched the numbers tick by. He couldn’t look away. The blue was the only thing tethering him, even if he didn’t know what would happen if he came untethered, unmoored. He didn’t want to know. Only to watch the numbers flip and turn and twist and think about the way the blue looked like something he knew.

The second night, it hurt. It absolutely ached to watch the numbers the minutes go by. _2:01_ and he’s not here. _2:02_ and he won’t be here. _2:03_ never again. _2:04_ no more innocent smiles. _2:05_ no more goofy little guys in trenchcoats. The pain crushed in on him but he didn’t look away.

The third night, Dean was drunk. He ignored the light, watched the ceiling instead. The room shifted and swayed with the blue flashes and beer bottles seeping condensation onto his pillows. His cheeks were damp too but he pretended it was the beer and lack of sleep making his eyes water.

The past two nights were just alcohol and headphones and blue blue blue. But tonight, he closes his eyes. Tonight Dean lets the thoughts in.

Dean’s life has always balanced on his survival skills. A top that keeps on turning but only if he spins it just right. Wake up and fight. Fight monsters, fight people, fight himself. The past few days though, his swing is slower, knives dull. Dean’s not even sure how hard he’s trying. Because these past few days, something dark and thick like sludge is sliding all around his guts. It feels the way the illness spilled from Cas’ mouth when he-

Can’t think about that. That’s off limits. Dean will not think about his name or the tears dripping down his face or the words he said when he thought he was…

Instead, he thinks about his smile and his jokes and the way he lit up when Dean tossed him the mixtape like it was nothing. Dean thinks about the laughter. The top button always undone because the night of his first date with a woman, Dean stared a little too hard in the car and needed to think of something helpful to say to him.

Dean falls asleep sober. He dreams of blue eyes and burnt sand in the shape of wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this short drabble! I had planned to expand on it and incorporate my ideas as to how Cas would come back but I think it reads a bit better this way.


End file.
